Fortunes
by TalesofErynGalen
Summary: When lives can be changed by the direction of the wind, a fate that seems set in stone may turn on itself without warning. The very future of Tamriel hangs by a thread, to be cut or preserved by the last alliance that the world would like to entrust their survival to.


Isolea Fell-Winter was not happy. Not. One. Bit. The cold wind cut through her weather-stained tunic like a knife, stinging her eyes with tears and turning her skin a ruddy pink as she trudged onward. Of course she couldn't have stayed in Cyrodiil. She couldn't continue living with her parents in the family home, being groomed and prepared to enter the world of politics, knowing full well her younger sisters were running away. The twins were always the worst kind of unpredictable, especially when Isolea's life reached a turning point. Even as adults, their antics kept up at an unbearable pace.

The black-haired Imperial yelped sharply as she abruptly fell through the snow, the wet cold reaching the bottom of her ribs rather than her ankles. Gods, it was freezing. She'd been tracking Jana and Sansa ever since she found the head of their trail, at the impressive stables the Fell-Winter family maintained. They'd taken a single beast - a dapple grey mare, newly broken in. Despite this, Isolea had expected to catch them before they reached the border of Cyrodiil. That was several weeks ago, and now she felt the bone-deep chill that had accompanied her single trip to the province of Skyrim.

Of course, then she had been bundled thickly from head to toe with heavy fabrics, and was rarely allowed outside once they arrived. Not tripping through snow in a loose tunic and breeches suited much better to the warmer southern climates.

Oh, her little sisters were going to have hell to pay when she caught up to them.

She waded through the deepening snow until her grasping fingers scraped a hidden surface beneath the powder. Ever so carefully, she lifted herself onto it, kneeling and then rising, wishing it had been accompanied by more warmth. A stiff wind was blowing out of the north now, freezing her thoroughly. She couldn't keep this up...

" _By the Eight_! Are you okay?!" Thin, calloused hands gripped her numbing arms, pulling her up from the snowbank she hadn't realized she'd fallen back into. Her feet were set on solid ground, though she swayed unsteadily, and her arms were folded up so that the strange woman was pressing something between her hands...hands? Why couldn't Isolea feel her own hands, or those of the woman? "By the gods, you're like ice. Your fingers...can you feel anything? Skjor! _Skjor!_ "

Warmth enveloped Isolea's shoulders and she blinked in confusion. She could see the strange woman sitting with her - sitting? - and she had the impression that she was being hugged, but why only her shoulders? That was very strange. You didn't hug someone about the shoulders.

"Ria? What's going on?" Heavy footsteps in the snow. Crunching over the rocks of a cobbled road. Or a rocky outcropping? She didn't care to check. A moment later, someone knelt down in front of her. Pale grey eyes and a receding hairline with a dirt-streaked face loomed in her vision. "Well, this is a surprise. What's got _you_ so far from home, eh?"

Isolea screwed her eyes shut, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over her. Why was she out here again? What in Nirn had dragged her from the safety and security of her family home? Ah, yes. "S...sisters. Ran away..." Wait, was that something these people needed to know? Didn't mother always tell her not to open up more than was required? She hadn't _needed_ to tell these two that her rebellious sisters had unwittingly dragged her halfway across Tamriel. That meant the younger Fell-Winters were important to her, enough so that they were leverage. _Leverage._ Her life revolved around that one word, didn't it?

"Family issues, then. Common enough, but they sure ran a long way. You must be a dedicated sister. You're from Cyrodiil, right?" The man, Skjor, gave her a once-over as she leaned tiredly into Ria. The warmth from her hug was spreading down her arms, bringing a painful relief. Isolea sighed, not finding the strength to respond. Why did it matter? She didn't see why these strangers should care. Where she came from was her own business, as was why she was in this gods-forsaken snowy wasteland. She was the eldest of a noble family. She wasn't required to say anything to anyone who didn't outrank her in Cyrodiil. She _certainly_ wouldn't tell her life story to two strangers in beaten-up armor. Gods, she was tired. Ria was becoming increasingly warm beside her, and her eyelids drooped, an unbearable weight pulling them down.

At this, the fog covering her mind encroached even more heavily. How long had it been since she'd had a decent night's sleep? A night in an inn, not on a blanket laid over cold, hard ground, with wild creatures prowling all around. The memories felt so nice...the warmth was so inviting...

"No, you mustn't fall asleep! It isn't far to the nearest inn. You could rest safely there." Isolea payed them no mind. Why couldn't she sleep now? She didn't trust them completely, but what did it matter? If she didn't sleep, she would die just as surely as if the warriors slit her throat in the night. Was it night...?

It didn't matter. She leaned entirely onto Ria, sighing softly as she allowed her eyes to slide closed. In no time at all, she was numb to the world, lost in the comforting black of sleep.

* * *

"...think Jarl Idgrod will want to talk to her. I recognize her. She's the daughter of an Imperial noble named Ilina who came to visit Skyrim about twelve years ago, seeking counsel on a matter that she refused to disclose. All three of her daughters accompanied her - the eldest was Isolea, and let me tell you, she was the picture of proper nobility. Made quite the impression everywhere she went. Her sisters fit in far better. The cold invigorated them, like they were made for it. Jana and Sansa, I think they were called. There was an age gap between them of about five years."

Isolea huffed, feeling her body sway with the motion of the man's footsteps. She fought off the blanket numbing her intellect enough to realize that the man - Skjor - was cradling her like a small child, letting her sleep with her head resting against the metal chest plate of his armor. The metal was warm, all the way through. She'd been resting against it for quite a while, then. She felt a sudden pang of guilt. She was far from a typical small, slender Imperial noble, and she knew that carrying her for so long while she _slept_ had likely been bothersome. Her chest tightened. She'd made them take care of her. Leverage against her.

"Will she be okay? Her hands still feel so cold..." Rough callouses brushed over her fingers. She could feel again! Warmth radiated from the point of contact, like a fire melting ice. Whoever this person, Ria, was, she was far more suited to the cold than Isolea.

"I'll...be fine. Thank you." Ria gasped slightly, and Isolea heard her feet shuffle briefly through the snow. The chest plate against her cheek shook with Skjor's laughter. He hefted Isolea's weight, readjusting his grip. Almost immediately, she tried to tip herself over to the ground.

"Whoa! Slow down there, pup." Skjor hugged Isolea tightly to himself, holding her more firmly. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"I've imposed long enough" Isolea shoved off the last of her sleepy haze, dark eyes boring holes into Skjor's as he looked down at her. "I'll be fine on my own, and I need to find my sisters' trail again. Father will never forgive me if I lose them in this wretched wilderness."

"You'll be able to find them easily enough once they settle somewhere, if they're the same sisters I remember from your last visit to Skyrim. Right now, you need to rest and recover." Skjor loosened his grip slightly, keeping an eye on Isolea. "You have severe frostbite in your feet. Probably from stumbling through snow for Divines know how long. It won't be safe for you to walk on your own until it clears up."

"That's lovely, but I _really_ need to get going. Jana and Sansa need to come home as soon as possible." When no move was made to release her, Isolea twisted in Skjor's arms. "Let me down! I need to find them and bring them home immediately!"

"Immediately can wait until you aren't in danger of losing parts of your feet. I'll assign two of my shield siblings to the job if it's truly important."

Reluctantly, Isolea relaxed back into the warrior's arms. Maybe it would be best to delegate the job to someone who knew the country better...

* * *

Twin pairs of brown eyes snapped to the sky as a deep roar rent the air. Jana looked across at her sister, dark red hair wound up in twin braided loops at the back of her head. "Did that sound like a bear to you, Sansa?"

Sansa shook her head slowly, fire flaring to life in her hands. "No, it did not."

Jana gripped the hilt of her greatsword, her brow furrowing. "Get ready, sister. We've got a challenger."


End file.
